


Is It Still Me That Makes You Sweat?

by cerie



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Body Shots, Drug Use, F/M, Tequila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a thinly-veiled excuse to see skin normally hidden under the sleek, modest lines of business casual but he and MacKenzie hadn’t indulged; he likes to keep MacKenzie’s skin all to himself, thanks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It Still Me That Makes You Sweat?

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have some porn. Thank namastetoyoutoo on tumblr for this one.

I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck  
Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me  
Girl I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of  
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?  
No, no, no, you know it will always just be me

"Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off" by Panic! At The Disco

***

Will mostly hates parties but he does like the idea that people like him and everyone is pretty high on the fact that nobody is resigning, they’re fighting the good fight and, yeah, he and MacKenzie are engaged. When MacKenzie asks if they can have a party to celebrate, he doesn’t say no and he just has the staff over to his place instead of renting a venue. It’s more intimate that way and it means that MacKenzie won’t have to worry about making her way home drunk and wobbly on too-high heels; she can stay with _him_ and that’s infinitely preferable to any other option.

MacKenzie doesn’t stay over every night. She tries not to stay over during the week because it makes it hard to motivate herself to leave early every morning but the weekends are usually spent in bed with the occasional trip to the kitchen. Will finds he’s in a much better mood come Monday morning if he’s spent the last 72 hours (give or take) with his hands all over MacKenzie’s soft, smooth skin. Having to share her on his Saturday night isn’t ideal but at least nobody from the show cares if he spends most of the night standing behind her, arms slid around her waist and her head tucked beneath his chin. They claim it’s because she’s cold since her shirt technically doesn’t have a back but they both know it’s because he wants to show everyone that she’s _his_ ; MacKenzie doesn’t seem to mind his possessive streak.

At about midnight, everyone starts drifting out one by one and finally he and MacKenzie are alone. She pulls away long enough to start cleaning up a little of the party mess even though Will insists that his cleaning lady will get it while they’re asleep tomorrow and her hand pauses on a half-empty bottle of Don Julio tequila. “Sloan left her bottle. Oops.” MacKenzie gives him a little grin. Earlier, most of the younger staff had been doing body shots on that table. It was a thinly-veiled excuse to see skin normally hidden under the sleek, modest lines of business casual but he and MacKenzie hadn’t indulged; he likes to keep MacKenzie’s skin all to himself, thanks.

“Tequila is usually a bad idea in the morning.” MacKenzie laughs and hops up on the table, filling a shot glass with a less than steady hand. “It’s not morning, Billy. Now come over here and lick me.” It’s far from subtle but MacKenzie is pretty fucking drunk and Will isn’t about to deny himself the chance to get his mouth all over her skin. She lays back against the table, feet hanging off the edge, and lifts up her shirt to reveal pale skin; the shot glass is balanced against her navel. He shakes the salt against her hip where her pants are slung low (Leather. Should be illegal. Probably are in some countries.) and licks it in a slow, deliberate manner before taking the shot glass in his mouth and knocking it back. Will’s pretty sure he’s at least three decades too old to do this but _fuck_ MacKenzie is hot. He stretches up to take the lime from her mouth, bites it, then tugs it out so he can kiss her instead. 

Kissing MacKenzie is usually slow and kind of sweet but tonight it’s hot and his tongue brushes against hers in a slow slide. He pulls away just enough to drag his teeth against her lower lip and when he breaks the kiss, he catches a glimpse of her eyes. They’re big and dark, ringed with smoky makeup and fucking gorgeous, just like the rest of her. He gives her a lazy grin.

“Stay right where you are. Don’t move.” MacKenzie gives him a look but does as he asks, laying still against the table until he gets back. He pushes her shirt up to reveal her bare breasts and confirms what he’s suspected the better part of the night: MacKenzie is totally not wearing a bra. Suddenly all those glimpses here and there of her nipples pressed against the silky blue fabric while she danced with Sloan take on a new meaning and his cock is so hard that he’s pretty sure most of his cognitive functions are shutting down.

He doesn’t normally smoke out in his apartment but he’s drunk enough not to give a fuck and he’s got a joint and an ash tray in one hand and a little bowl of ice in the other. He lights the joint and takes a hit, closing his eyes and sighing a little on the exhale when he hears the unmistakable sound of MacKenzie snapping her fingers. “Don’t be greedy. Share.” He carefully hands her the joint since she’s still laying down and puts the ash tray within reach. MacKenzie doesn’t smoke often but unlike Taylor, she actually knows how to do it, and she sucks in deep just as he puts the ice against her bare skin.

“Fuuuuck,” she whines on the exhale, dragging the word out into one long string of syllables as he slides the ice back up to rub against her nipples. He’s patient tonight in a way he normally isn’t, the combined effects of marijuana and alcohol, and MacKenzie is the exact opposite. God, he loves to tease her. MacKenzie finishes his joint and stubs it out, sliding her hands down her own skin to pinch and tease her nipples before she pops the button on her leather pants and works them down her slim hips along with her panties. 

It’s probably stupid, considering his knees, but Will thinks it’s also worth it because MacKenzie looks the hottest he’s ever seen her before and that’s a high bar to clear. She pouts when he doesn’t strip his jeans but figures it out a half beat later when he kneels down between her legs and cups her ass to drag her close to his mouth.

He’s always loved going down on a woman, focusing his (if he’s bragging, which he totally is) considerable prowess on just _her_ and letting her be the center of attention for a little while. He especially loves it with MacKenzie because she’s vocal and violent, hand curling in his hair as he runs the tip of his tongue against her, teasing her before he spreads her open with his thumbs and fits his mouth against her clit. MacKenzie’s noises get louder and louder and he teases her gently with his teeth before moving away to scrape his stubble against the delicate skin of her inner thigh; she rewards him by curling one hand into his shoulder hard enough to almost draw blood and tugging at his hair. “Fuck you,” she whimpers, bucking against his mouth. He laughs and bites her thigh before moving his mouth against her clit again and sliding in two long fingers, crooking them slightly. 

Her tone changes then, from desperate to satisfied, and she wails and sobs and makes enough fucking noise that he thinks most of Manhattan has heard her. She falls back down to the table and breathes heavily for a moment, not making a sound, and Will kisses her one last time before drawing his fingers out. She props up on her elbows and watches him, face flushed and chest heaving. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he insists, quickly shucking his jeans. MacKenzie seems to know what he’s after because she sits up a little more and scoots to the edge of the table, thighs spread wide. She’s just the right height that he doesn’t have to really bend his knees to do this and MacKenzie is more than willing to help him, arm slung around his neck and another braced at the small of his back. He hikes her up higher, her thigh over his hip, and slides in with one quick motion, hitting her deep. 

“Fuck. Harder?” Will isn’t normally like this but it’s MacKenzie and his rules all seem to go out the window where she’s concerned. He fucks her harder, hitting her deep on every pass and his fingers curl into her thigh; he’s pretty sure she’ll have bruises in the morning and he’s also pretty sure that neither of them care. He knows he’s close, especially with how tight and hot she is around him and when she leans forward enough to catch his mouth in a bruising kiss it changes the angle enough that it’s all over for him and he comes, thrusting hard for a blissful few moments. Fuck. 

MacKenzie whimpers as he pulls away and he glances up, concerned. The last thing he ever wants to do is hurt her and the idea that he might have sobers him up pretty fucking quickly. “Mac? Are you okay?”

MacKenzie laughs, low and throaty, and nods. “I’m just sad it’s over for a little while and I can’t get an immediate encore.”

Well. He’s not a _machine_.


End file.
